In The Refiner’s Fire
by floppyearsthebunny
Summary: When an evil wizard enchants and captures Susan on the eve of her sister's birhtday, who will suffer and what sacrifices will be made? Will Queen Susan be found or will she be bound a swan forever?
1. An Ordinary Evening?

The Chronicles of Narnia" are the property of the estate of C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, Walt Disney Pictures, et cetera. No profit is or shall be made from this fan work. The author also wishes to make known that she does not endorse or encourage the misuse of any alcoholic beverage.

The Pevensies, rulers of Narnia, were resting and reclining in a small family room after a particularly grand ball. Extremely exhausted from the noise, the dancing, the day's competitions and the long week of celebrating, the four monarchs had retired early from the merriment.

The week-long celebration had been in honor of Lucy's upcoming birthday. There had been hunts and tournaments of all sorts. Royalty from many nations had been invited. Princes and nobles by the score had shown up in honor of Queen Lucy's birthday and to try their hand against the kings in the various tournaments. With no problems in Narnia, the siblings had planed to take another tour of their country, a sort of vacation after the festivities were ended.

Gentle ocean breezes blew through the room, cooling and refreshing the tired monarchs. Through the open door the music from the ball could still be heard faintly. Knowing the Narnians love of celebrating, feasting, and wine, they knew the merriment would probably go on all night and into the early morning hours.

"Wasn't that wonderful?" Lucy sighed contentedly.

"I agree Lu. Ed's dancing was the best entertainment I've seen in a long time," Susan laughed.

"Hey! That last lady was stomping on my feet," Edmund grumbled. "Besides, it's not my fault Peter never learned to dance," he finished with a smirk.

Despite the gaiety of the night's celebration and the excitement of that night's ball, Peter was miserable. He had felt sick all day and a headache from a nasty nock in the morning's tournament hadn't helped any. Of course, he hadn't had the heart to tell Lucy. Besides, once his secret was out they would force him to stay in bed. He now regretted not having spent the day resting, enduring the teasing and mothering, as the excited chatter of his two sisters' conversation made his headache agonizing. Looking around the room, Peter spotted one of their faithful servants  
standing in the doorway waiting to be noticed.

"Come in, Dalia."

"Your Majesties," she said, curtsying while balancing a tray with four goblets of steaming liquid. "I've brought you some warm milk. It will you to help relax. The other servants mentioned that Your Majesties had retired early and might be feeling weary and in need of refreshment," the young girl finished in her strong Galman accent.

"Ah, thank you," Peter sighed, picking up a goblet of warm, spiced milk. "To many years of peaceful rule, and to Lucy!"

"To Lucy!" they cheered, raising the goblets then each took a sip.

"Dalia, wait," Susan called as the girl made her way toward the door.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Dalia asked, her soft voice shaking momentarily with nervousness.

Motioning the girl back to her side, Susan inquired, "There's something unusual about this milk. Are you sure this milk is fresh? The milk from kitchens is never like this."

"Yes, Your Majesty, I'm sure it's still quite fresh," Dalia replied, smiling with apparent relived confidence.

"What are you talking about, Su? Are you sure the wine hasn't gotten to you?" Lucy asked jokingly as Susan dismissed Dalia with a wave of her hand.

"Here Edmund, have a taste of this," Susan said, handing the nearly finished goblet of milk to her brother.

He took a sip and frowned. His eyes furrowed deeper as he consumed several more sips, then the rest of the contents.

"You're right, Su, it is different," Edmund agreed, setting the now empty chalice on the table before them as he licked his lips. "It's delicious," he said as he suddenly collapsed lifeless in his chair, his head lolling to the side.

Peter sat up, suddenly fully awake, fear written across his face as he silently prayed to Aslan that this breath would not be his brother's last.

"Edmund!" Susan screamed and Lucy darted over to the dark-haired king's side. As she leaned worriedly over him, he placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Edmund Pevensie! You sly trickster!" Lucy yelled in relieved frustration, beating her laughing brother with a pillow as the castle guard _headed by General Oreius_, rushed in.

"My apologies General Oreius, King Edmund was merely playing a trick upon us. We are all well," Peter said sleepily to his general, dismissing them. Turning to his siblings he said "Well I don't know about you three, but I'm ready for my bed.

"I agree," said Susan as a yawn escaped her lips. "Come on, Ed."

Pushing himself up, Edmund followed his siblings to their quarters, and as his oldest sister turned to disappear into her room, Edmund nearly half asleep himself, voiced a heart-felt apology.

"Fair Sister, I must confess my regret is deep over the fear I caused you and our dear brother and sister this night. I see now it was a very childish and not the caliber of my stature or age."

"Oh Ed, I forgive you. Where would we be with you not to make life interesting and fun?" Susan said as she hugged him.

Still troubled, Edmund walked to his quarters, collapsing fully clothed into his spacious bed.


	2. Tragedy and a Letter

Edmund! Edmund! Wake up, please! Hurry get up! Ed, come on," Lucy shouted as she jumped on Edmund's bed.

"Lucy, please stop. Leave me alone. My head," an indistinct lump under the covers groaned, putting his pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the bright rays of sunlight, noise, and the enthusiasm of his sister that filled the room.

"Oh Ed, please get up. I can't find Susan," Lucy said, in a more merciful tone.

"What?!" he exclaimed sitting bolt upright, wincing as the room spun.

"I woke up this morning and went into her room, she wasn't there. I searched all of her favorite places. She's nowhere to be found."

"Alright Lu, just give me moment to put some proper clothes on.

Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find her," Edmund said, half-asleep as he slid out of his bed in his night clothes.

He stood, reeling some and walked over to his wardrobe. As he reached it, a sudden dizziness engulfed him and he collapsed. His head would have would have hit the floor had not his valet caught him.

"Ed!"

"I'm alright, Lu. I just got up too quickly," The dark-haired king replied as he tried to regain his balance.

"Why don't you send the day resting, Ed?" Lucy queried concerned about the state of her brother, in tone that more order than question.

"No, I'm fine." Her brother responded, regaining his balance but still reeling some.

"What going on?" Peter asked groggily. He stood in the doorway in his nightclothes. His hair stood out in all directions as if he had just woken up. This was, of course, because he had. Lucy's shouts and Edmund's exclamations had roused him and by the looks on his siblings' faces he could tell something had happened. "What's wrong, Lu?"

"I can't find Susan," Lucy said in a voice that betrayed the depth of her worry.

"Alright, Lu. Let's go check her room, maybe she went for a ride and now she s back. I'm sure she wouldn't go far with out leaving a note," Peter mumbled groggily.

"I asked the grooms and most everyone. No one has seen her all morning."

"Let's just check anyway, perhaps she left before they were awake."

Upon entering they found the window was open and a morning breeze was blowing in, but there was no Susan.

"Your Majesties, have you seen her grace, The Gentle?" a frazzled

Dryad asked, bowing.

"You mean she hasn't been seen has seen since last night?" Peter asked frantically, a look of incredulousness on his face.

"I'm sorry, King Peter," she said, remorse lacing her voice as she wrung her hands in nervousness.

"She's not here, Peter! I've looked almost everywhere," Lucy exclaimed, on the verge of panic as they searched for clues as to Susan's disappearance.

"Marius, double the guard on the castle! I want anyone sneaking in or out caught and brought to me," Peter shouted to one of the guards.

"Hey! What's this?" Edmund exclaimed upon finding a small letter with the imprint of Susan's royal seal, the swan, on it. Oddly enough, underneath the seal were two swan feathers. They were pointing north and towering above the seal like mountains. It had been carefully hidden under a stack of personal papers so that only the siblings would find it. At their brother's shout Lucy and Peter hurried over to see what he had found.

Puzzled, Edmund lifted the seal and read started reading.

"_To my royal brothers and sister, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy._

_My dear siblings, how it pains me to tell I will not see you for a long time. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. There's so much to tell you all and yet so little time._

"_To Lucy, _

_My dear precious little sister, always remember I love you. Please try to keep Peter and Ed civil and a lid on your own temper as I'm sure it will flare up upon hearing this letter. Be a help to them. _

"_To Edmund,_

_I'm telling you this because you have a love for justice. There was something different in that milk, (as you know) whether Dalia put it in or not. I can feel it changing me. Already my voice is almost gone. I'm thinking Dalia slipped something into my glass, but I still can't believe she would, after all we've done for her. Dear Brother, please do be careful as I'm not sure what effect it will have on you._

"_To Peter:_

_Don't tear Narnia apart looking for me. Some of the army needs to stay at Cair Paravel, and do try to be good to Dalia; she's just a confused young girl."_

Here some the writing became almost unlegible as if Susan had suddenly lost the ability to write.

"_Lovingly,_

_Your Royal Sister _

_Susan_."

Agast, Edmund raised horror-stuck eyes to look at his brother and sister.

"Where is that girl?! Guards! Fetch the kitchen maid, Dalia!" Peter roared in anger.


	3. Wrong Judgement and Questions

Disclaimer: I own anything you don't recognize. (Dalia, Dalia's twin, Cecilia ect...)

A huge Thank-You goes to my beta reader elecktrum. without my beta reader this would have been a junky chapter.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as guards escorted the young kitchen maid to their sovereigns. As she walked along she pondered her circumstances.

_It had been a normal morning and everyone was still talking about the ball, giggling over the handsome lords and the antics of the mouse soldiers, and saying they liked the music performed by the fauns more than song by some of the talking dogs. As Dalia listened to the chatter of the other maids, she prepared the linens for lunch and tea._

_"Marie, remember when those dogs asked to sing to Queen Lucy?"_

_"Awoooo!" Marie howled in an off-key imitation of the dog choir. "That was really funny. Have you got those linens ready, Dalia?"_

_"Almost I'm just…" Dalia replied, breaking off as a centaur and two fauns rushed into the kitchen. The room fell suddenly quiet._

_"By order of their Majesties, Maid Dalia is to appear before them."_

_From the head cook, a jolly female Dwarf from Clearwater, all the way down to Cecilia, the snooty laundress to Queen Susan, everyone just stood for a moment with their mouths hanging open. Unless it was a special event or they were in trouble, nobody from the kitchen was ever escorted about by guards._

_She stepped forward, puzzled but obedient. "I am she."_

_She could not remember a time before when the kings and queens had sent for her this way. Usually they rang a bell or sent a page to fetch her. Upon  
seeing her, the fauns had grasped her arms firmly but not painfully and marched her to the door._

_"What did you do now, silly dilly? Poison the Kings?" Cecilia's sneering voice called out as Dalia was marched out the door._

_"Quiet, Cecilia!" the top cook's voice rang out over buzz of whispered voices. "And close you mouth. It makes you look like a fish."__  
_

Dalia's brow furrowed in worry as they approached the receiving room. She had never been in that room except to clean it, as it was used for important  
visitors. Upon entering a sudden fear leapt into her heart as she found herself standing before three of Narnia's rulers. They did not look as pleased to see her as they usually did.

"The serving maid Dalia, Your Highnesses," the centaur behind her voiced as she stepped forward, dropping into a deep curtsy.

"Thank you, Marius," Peter replied, his voice cold and formal.

"Your Majesties, do you require something?" she asked, trying to keep calm. Her young voice trembled with fear and uncertainty as she dropped into another deep curtsy.

"Where is Queen Susan and what you have done to her?" The younger king's accusing words struck Dalia like a blow and she fell back a step, cringing.

So surprised was she at this pronouncement that she stumbled over her own words. "Your Majesty, I k-know not of what y-you speak. I have n-n-not seen her g-grace since the n-night before l-last."

She looked desperately to Queen Lucy and King Peter, pleading for them to come to her defense, desperate to understand what was happening, what she  
was being charged with. Queen Lucy gave her a sad, sorry look as if to say she was hurt and disappointed in the younger girl and that pained Dalia more  
than any physical attack could have. King Peter's expression was stony, his eyes only betraying a hint of the fury that was being held within.

"Dalia, we've known you since you were eleven and you've always been a good and faithful servant and friend. Why would you to bring hurt upon Susan? Why  
would you betray us?"

"Y-Your Majesty, n-n-no! I didn't! I wouldn't! Never!" She pressed cold fingers to her lips and she slowly shook her head as she sunk to her knees, feeling lost, alone, confused that she should be blamed for any misdeed.

Then door opened and two centaurs came in dragging a girl. Although just a small, slim maid, her uncooperativeness and struggling caused the centaurs more trouble and extra energy than being cooperative. Her stormy face and glaring eyes faded instantly to an expression so deliberately sweet as to be a mockery to the very monarchs the monarchs of Narnia ranged before her.

"King Peter, Dalia the serving…" Fidelia, the centaur, said, breaking off in shock as she saw the serving girl already there. Everyone, all the way down to the real Dalia, stared in astonishment, for this newcomer with her sneering manners was a twin to the Galman maid. In the daylight she looked a few inches taller and while Dalia had fallen to her knees before her sovereigns, this girl stood proudly, even daring to hold her nose in the air as if she had no fear.

"Good morning, Your Majesties. I trust you slept well. Perhaps, I could get you some more milk? Or perhaps . . . " she said, as she turned to Peter, her jade eyes glittering with malice, her voice as cloying as syrup. "You would like to know what became of your darling sister?"

"You forget to whom you speak, waif. You speak to the High King, "shouted an indignant guard.

"Who are you and for whom do you work?" Edmund demanded firmly.

"Who am I? Just a citizen of Narnia like everyone elssse," she said, her last sentence coming out with a snake-like hiss as she twisted in the centaurs' grip. "My Masster…? You will meet him if you care anything about this sister of yours. Such a beauty. Such a shame."

"Where is my sister?" Lucy shouted impulsively, but quieted at the look her dark-haired brother shot her.

"Hmm, what happened to Gentle Queen Susan? That is what you wanted to know, isn't it? You'll never see her again. She's well hidden." The maid retorted smugly, looking contemptuously down on Lucy as if the youngest queen was a sniveling child.

"But don't worry, she's safe..." the false maid said, stopping to gauge the response to the assurance of the queen's safety. "Unless some hunter shoots her down. Swan feathers are in great demand in the Islands these days, or so I hear." she finished with a knowing look at both kings, a look that held no sorrow or regret for what she had done or the pain she had caused.

"You are walking on thin ice, lady," Edmund said, courteously but with warning in his tone.

"You would know, wouldn't you King Edmund? You served the Queen of Ice. I wonder how can a traitor try other traitors?"

"Take her away. Double the guards on her cell," the Just king commanded, his expression and voice unchanging.

"With pleasure, Your Majesty," Marius said, bowing, then he marched the spiteful maid out the door. A collective sigh was heard as the door closed behind the viper.

Leaning over to a faun guard standing beside him, Peter whispered, "Question her. I want to know who she is, who she's working for and why she put the potion in Queen Susan's glass." Then turning to his sister, his voice comforting, he slid out of his chair to help Dalia to her feet.

"Lucy, would you take our faithful little maid in hand? Perhaps some hot chocolate would be in order. Express our deepest apologies for wrongly  
charging her. Edmund and I have something to discuss, but we'll join you soon so we may render our apologies in person."


	4. Information

"Your Majesty, King Peter!" exclaimed a young faun, running into the receiving room. He caught himself, bowed, and waited for approval to approach.

"What is your name, young sir?

"Page, Your Majesty."

"Now Page, what news have you?"

"The dryads believe the potion in this phial is what was put into Queen Susan's drink last night. They say it is extracted from a tree found only in the Dark Woods. They ask if King Edmund could help them identify it."

"Where did the phial come from?" questioned King Peter.

"It was found in the pocket of the false maid's apron, Sire. Fidelia and Marius have questioned her, but she has revealed nothing."

"Is that all?"

"Only that Queen Lucy asks that both you and King Edmund meet her in the  
library."

"Thank you, Page. You may leave now."

Quickly the young faun bowed and left. The High King turned toward his brother. Edmund lifted the top and cautiously sniffed the substance left on the rim. Shutting the lid hastily and coughing, he nodded to his brother, wincing as his headache set upon him again. This was the same potion.

Alarmed, Peter quickly jumped up, taking the phial from his brother's fingers and leading him over to the nearby window

"This headache isn't from the wine, is it?" he confronted his brother as soon as the teen caught his breath.

"I don't know, Peter. I've felt strange all day. I almost collapsed this morning getting out of bed. We both know you and I've drunk more than I did last night and not had as strong a reaction," the dark-haired youth replied with confusion.

"Ed, maybe you should go rest. I'll be fine by myself," the High King stated worriedly.

"I'm fine now," Edmund lied. "But we must look up this Dark Woods. Surely we'll find some clues to where Susan is being held."  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Peter! Edmund! Look at what I found," Lucy exclaimed, dragging Peter over to a small table in the dark recesses of the library. Edmund followed behind at a more dignified pace until he met them at a small, round table upon which rested an ancient tome. The book's pages were of parchment, cracked and yellowed with time, and it was open to a page showing bold, flowing script and fanciful illustrations.

**Dark Woods / The Black Woods of Ettinsmuir.**

The Black Woods of Ettinsmoor, known to legend as the Dark Woods, is said to cover that dread land of fell creatures and poisoned waters between the Dark Castle of Lake Misery and the Ebony Mountains. A nameless Evil dwells here in the forest deep and dark, said to consume all who dare to cross the mountains and enter that malignant land.

"Lu, what does the have to do with finding Susan?"

"Read on, Peter. Right here," she exclaimed, her slim finger pointing to the paragraph below.

It is said a wizard of terrible power and intent dwells in the castle, ageless and cunning, and he keeps unto him a flock of enchanted swans. Each swan is said to have been a noble maiden that fell under his spell, unable to leave the lake unless the enchantment is broken . . .

"Lu, where did you find this book?" Peter questioned, astonishment written clearly across his countenance.

"At back of the library, on the farthest shelf. It was stuffed in at the end of the shelf between two fairy tales. Ed, are you alright?" Lucy asked, suddenly anxious. Edmund's face had taken on a sickly pallor.

"I think I'll just go sit down," he said weakly, sounding as if that morning's breakfast was about to be released.

"Peter, what has befallen our brother?" Lucy questioned, her concern evident as they watched Edmund lower himself into a chair and rest his head in his hands.


	5. Apologies and a Dinner Invitation

Softness flooded her senses as she awoke, reminding her of the eider ducklings she had met in the kitchen garden this spring, yet much softer.  
_Where was she? This was not her bed, nor her own comfortable chamber by the herb garden. And Oh! The warmth and silkiness of the blanket, only a great  
lord or lady might own one such as this! It might even have been woven by the famous naiads of Silver Springs, for they were renowned for making  
especially beautiful and wonderful textiles of rarity._ Dalia yawned and stretched, looking around the spacious room. To her surprise, the sun was already setting in a magnificent display, complementing the rich, fiery-orange curtains that hung by the windows.

A knock at the door startled them.

"Come in," she called, sinking back into the bed and closing her eyes, too comfortable and warm to move. The soft tap of leather boots entered and came  
around to the front of the divan.

"M'lady, may I have a word with you?" At the familiar voice, she instantly sat up.

"King Peter! I...I…I… My apologies… I did not know… I…" stuttered Dalia, extremely embarrassed to be seen in her sleeping kirtle, her cheeks blushing as pink as the rose-colored blanket that covered her.

"As a knight and a king, it is I who should apologize. We wrongfully accused and disgraced you. For that I and my brother are very sorry. He would be here, but he has taken ill." He spoke with the sincere, open friendliness she knew and expected from the High King and his tone was instantly soothing.

"It is alright, King Peter. King Edmund is ill? I hope His grace is not grievously unwell. What of Queen Susan…? Is there any hope for her?" asked the maid earnestly.

"We'll be setting out to tomorrow to find her and break the enchantment." his voice sounded optimistic, but his eyes betrayed uncertainty.

"Have all the preparations been made to depart, King Peter?"

"Mostly, yes. General Oreius is readying the army. There's still a great deal to do with sorting out the weapons and rations and supplies." He smiled. "The healers never feel as if they've packed enough even when we picnic down at Clearwater, so to venture into parts unknown has them all awhirl. I must go see my sister now. Perhaps Queen Lucy has found more information and there are many details to which I still must attend."

"I know I am small and young, but could I be of help with anything?"

"Stay with Queen Lucy and be her companion. She will not like to hear it, but this mission is too dangerous for her and she will need a friend." His expression distant as he voice the command. "But now of pleasanter things! Would you please join us tonight for dinner?" The tone of his voice changed from firm and distant to easy going as he extended his invitation.

"Thank you, K… Sir. But I'm not a royal lady." The small maid smiled sadly, a wishful tone in her voice. Then an older dryad with a kind, wrinkly face entered. In her hands she held a pink dress, the same color as the blanket that covered Dalia.

"But you are our friend, and that is reason good enough. I believe my sister set a dress aside for you." With a faint smile, Peter departed, leaving Dalia with the dryad maid. The  
elderly birch smiled as she asked,

"Well now, Miss Dalia, shall we start with your hair?"


	6. Heading out

The rain pounded down hard on the army, producing a sound like a child banging on pans and the gloominess of the day matched everyone's mood. To add to the misery of the day, wind whipped through the courtyard crowded with soaked Narnians, sending shivers down the spine of all who were gathered to wish farewell and good luck to the departing kings and soldiers.

Lucy hugged her dark-haired brother, who despite his slight cough had convinced elder king to let him come. "You'll keep Peter safe and keep yourself well, won't you?"

"Yes, Lu. You think I want to let him get hurt?" Edmund exclaimed with feigned hurt in his voice. "I want to keep him from harm as much you do. And of course I'll try and stay warm," he replied, his voice hoarse from coughing. "As warm as anyone can, in such wet and misty lands as the moors."

"Oh Ed, I wish I was coming with you. Come back soon, dear brother. Aslan be with you," the youngest queen said as she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"And with you, fair sister. Do keep yourself safe. I love you." Then in one fluid motion he swung up onto the waiting horse's back.

"Peter, are you sure won't let me come? You could get Tumnus to…" Lucy begged turning to Peter.

"Look at your lips. They're turning blue and you're shivering." The wheaten-haired king pointed, a joking smile on his face. "No, Lu," he said, his voice growing firm again. "It's just too dangerous. But if you need any counsel, you can always ask Archimedes. He said he'd be glad to be of help. I will bring Susan back, I promise."

"Do try to keep yourself from being overly heroic and make sure you both get  
proper rest. Lion be with you."

"He will Lu, and with you too," the High King answered, his voice comforting  
as he embraced his youngest sister. Then he leapt up on Fury, smiled to his sister and gave command to move out.


	7. Somthing stange afoot

The rain refused to let up all the next day, making the march a complete misery to all involved. Some of the soldiers clustered in small groups as they tramped forward, others stood apart thinking of home, family and warmth. The grass was slippery and quite a few soldiers nearly lost their balance. Even with cloaks, most of the troop shivered in the cold fall rain.

Peter watched his brother carefully; mindful of the toll the weather was taking on him and his health. He certainly did not want that cough turning into something worse. He saw how Edmund rode hunched over against the wind.  
Something was bothering him, something more than just the weather.

Urging his horse to catch up to the younger king, he spoke in a voice only his brother could hear.

"What's wrong, Ed?"

"Peter, this is the second time," Edmund stated, trying to hide his discomfort and anxiety from his brother. He failed, and mingled in with his  
serious tone Peter caught a hint of disgust.

"The second time of what?"

"The second time I've had magic in me. First it was her, and now this blasted potion."

"The headache is back, isn't it?"

"It's worse. No, Peter, it's not your fault," the younger king said firmly. Noticing the worried look on his brother's face, the look that said he was about to beat himself up for bringing the nearly-sick teen along, Edmund hastily added, "It started this morning. Don't worry, it's not the weather or the journey."

"General, we stop here tonight!"

"Peter, no. Don't stop them just for me. I'm fine," the dark-haired king hissed softly into Peter's ear.

"But King Peter! Surely you do not mean make camp with hours still left before nightfall?" an older dwarf queried. There were still a good three  
hours of light by which they could travel left in the day.

"I mean what I said, Chauffkin. We stop for the night here, and not a mile further," the High King stated firmly, a steely quality to his voice that said this was not a matter to be debated or questioned.

"As your Majesty commands," Oreius replied. Quickly, almost like magic, the camp was set up and the kings' packs were set in their tent and unpacked.

Edmund slowly, carefully dismounted, closing his eyes a moment as the world seemed to spin before him. Even Phillip noticed this change in his sovereign.

"King Edmund. Sire, are you unwell?"

"Just tired and wet, Phillip." The younger king sighed, putting up a brave front and smiling wearily, so that his mount might not see his discomfort.

With snort of unbelief, the loyal horse wished the kings a very good night.

* * *

The morning of the next day the sun was out again, shining brilliantly and helping to dry everything out. As evening neared, the hot and sticky army began trudging up a broad, steep incline to a plateau just ahead where they would make their camp. Through the sun was out, the path was covered with slippery muck.

A few feet to their left, the edge of the path dropped away to a deep gully with a few stubborn, stunted trees growing on its steep slopes. A river ran through the bottom of the gorge, back through the valley behind, connecting with the River Shribble in the marshes. What was usually a tiny trickle of a river was now roaring with days of run-off that ran.

Before them, temporary, brown waterfalls cascaded off the mountains, thin veils of water and mist where the water poured over the edge and the mountains flattened out to the low, rolling hills and lowlands of Ettinsmuir, all heather-clad and sparkling.

Edmund looked at the rain-soaked path scattered with fall leaves and began to dismount. The soldiers were then treated to a brief argument between their Just King and his mount as the Edmund insisted upon walking up the incline on his own and Phillip insisted that he ride. Both were quite adamant and ignored their audience as Phillip used common sense to battle Edmund's logic. It was hard to say who actually won, but in the end the teen made his own way up the incline.

Edmund walked along thinking and muttering to himself. First it was his baby sister, then his brother and, now his loyal mount and friend. Goodness! He could take care of himself! He didn't need a lot of worrying Narnians hovering over him. He was just fine. All he had was a little cough and a headache. That wasn't sick!

He noticed the muddy ground beginning to shift beneath him. Then suddenly, like a trap door, the rain-soaked ground dropped out from underneath his feet. As his knees buckled beneath him, he cried out in surprise and fright. He saw Peter whip around, a look of horror and terror on his face, the soldiers' voices rose up in equal alarm. Then he was carried away in a river of water, mud and rocks. His brother's voice echoing over the tumult,

"EDMUND!"


	8. Despair

Peter sloshed through the wet grass and mud along the riverbank. "Edmund! Edmund! Ed! Can you hear me? Answer me! Edmund!" the High King cried desperately, at the point of breaking. "Ed, Where are you? Please answer me," he begged, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper after yelling those same words all night long. He sank down, exhausted by the night's search, ignoring the discomfort as his armor jammed against his knees. His heart ached and his throat constricted painfully. He felt a burning sensation at the corners of his eyes and he blinked, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

_A far distant memory stirred like a dream in his mind. He was standing inside a strange building, a long time ago when he was much younger, and a familiar woman stood in front of him. She had a kind, fair-skinned face and dark eyes like that of his brother, Edmund. He sensed anxiousness and worry from her, for even though she hid behind a brave demeanor her eyes betrayed her. As he looked around, he noticed the feeling of urgency mingled with fear and childish cries. Who was she? Perhaps she was his mother? _

_She hugged the younger version of him, and whispered gently in his ear, "Look after the others." He had replied, "I will Mum, I promise." Despite his best efforts, he had not kept his word and now his only brother was missing. Why had he let him come? _

_"Sweet Aslan, help me find my brother please, I beg,"_ he prayed silently.

At the muffled sound of hooves coming across the plain, he raised his eyes to meet those of his stony-faced general. Steam rose off his mud-spattered flanks in the early twilight air. Oreius hardly ever showed any emotion, but Peter knew a stony look like this only meant one thing, the general was worried.

"Yes, General?" the High King asked, pleading for any report of his brother, as the general had been right there with Peter and the soldiers all along, leading the foremost search party.

"King Peter, you have been searching the night through. You are exhausted. Allow us to continue seeking your brother. You must return to the camp and rest. "

"He is my brother, General. As such, I will continue searching with or without a guard, till I have no strength left and must be carried back to camp," the High King snapped through gritted teeth as he stood and walked away to continue the search, forgetting for a moment that Oreius would never abandon the search either.

Walking along the riverbank, battling the despair that threatened to engulf him, he stared at the murky river beside him. No longer a torrent, the waters had receded to a sluggish, shallow swirl of muddy water. A flash of metal caught his eye, the light reflecting off a familiar glint of steel as the sun arose in a magnificent display of color. He gasped and began to run forward, ignoring the cries of the soldiers around him and moving faster as he got closer the edge of the river up ahead.

"Edmund!"

Panic replaced despair as he lunged through the filthy water. The younger king lay unconscious among the reeds, his face barely above the surface of the river. Heedless of the cold and muck, Peter knelt and carefully, gently cradled his brother's head on his lap. Edmund's breaths were barely audible, only a whisper. The High King looked up desperately, shouting to the astonished soldiers:

"Flynn, alert the army. Swiftfoot, Finnolus, fetch the healers! Tell them we need a litter! Quickly!"

He didn't even watch to see if they obeyed, but turned his full attention back on Edmund. There was a long, ugly cut on his forehead and beneath the filth covering him, Peter could see bruises forming on his brother's face. Dents from that awful fall marred his armor. Peter had seen enough battles to know that Edmund's injuries were far worse than were immediately visible.

Why, why had he insisted that Lucy stay behind at Cair Paravel?  
------------------------------ ------------------------------ ------------------------------ ------------------

As the small party entered the camp a hush enveloped the waiting crowd, punctuated by a few gasps. The Just lay motionless on the litter, and only a perceptive few saw his chest rise and fall. His fair face was pallid and his dark hair was caked with blood and mud. Beside him walked the High King, his tear-stained face drawn into a mask of impassiveness, his hand grasping his younger brother's. As they passed by, all bowed their head in respect, from the smallest dwarf to the tallest centaur. Despair washed over the army like tidal wave, when they was carried him inside the Kings' tent. Many feared the worst; wondering if they would ever see their fiery younger king alive again, wondering if the grief of the dark-haired teen's looming departure would consume the Magnificent, Gentle and Valiant.


	9. In The Balence

Disclaimer: No I don't own them. They might be in more trouble if I did though. It all belongs to C.S. Lewis and the C.S. Lewis estate.

The room itself was fairly warm as a few braziers blazed in the corners of the tent. Every now and again though, a late fall breeze would creep in, a reminder that the lingering warmth of fall was long passed. Beside him, he spotted a cold plate of stew on a table, probably a few hours old. He knew he should eat, but with his brother so terribly weak, he found he had no stomach for food

Sighing, he studied the younger king's profile, checking for any sign of improvement and nearly gagging as he breathed in the smell of pungent herbs.

"Your Majesty, may I speak to you alone?" a chief healer, an elderly badger, petitioned. With her paw, she gestured to the far side of the tent, far away from the other healers and possible anxious, prying ears at the door.

"Yes, m'lady?" Peter answered, his voice controlled. Rising from his place beside his brother, he rose and followed her.

"As Your Majesty has most certainly seen, King Edmund's injuries are indeed grave. Though His Majesty is a fighter, I'm afraid it would take a miracle from the Great Lion himself to save him. If pneumonia doesn't finish him, his injuries will, though to move him in his condition would mean his death." She paused, her whiskers drooping as she sighed. Rallying herself, she continued. "My Liege, Everwarmth is past. If its lingering warmth were still present, he might have a chance, but Stormfall is upon us, and winter at our door. He may pull through, but best not to hang our hopes on it. I'm sorry, King Peter. So sorry."

"I understand, t-thank you, Rosalee. Your service has been more t-than valuable to us," replied the High King, his shoulders sagging as he fought to keep control of his emotions. "You may leave now; kindly tell the others, I wish to be alone with my brother."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The elder king moved softly across the tent and pulled his stool up closer beside his silent brother's bed. Of all the adventures that had happened while they had been in Narnia, Edmund had usually taken the brunt of the evil done to them, especially when he had broken the White Witch's wand. He took Edmund's pale, chilled hand in his and held it, gently touching it to his cheek as he silently cried out to Aslan, begging for help and for his brother's life to be spared. Gazing down, he saw how terribly small and vulnerable his brother seemed.

"No! No! Let her go! Please no. Take me instead, please." the younger king, cried out in his delirium, fighting Peter's hold as he resisted some fever dream.

"Ed, it's me. Peter. I'm right here," he whispered to Edmund, the younger king's breaths swift and shallow. "Don't worry, I won't leave you," Peter's steady voice reassured, although inwardly he wanted to break down and weep.

"Marius!" the High King called, fear for his brother energizing his shout.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Fetch me some parchment and ink and have a swift courier readied. Quickly! My brother's life hangs in the balance."


	10. Near assasination

Disclaimer: C.S. Lewis owns the world of Narnia and all the familar characters that everyone knows, I only own the original characters.

_"I think Edmund needs to go in the lake. What do you think Peter?" a dripping, brown-haired girl called joyfully, as she dragged a resisting, young man barely older than her towards the edge of the water. _

"No Lucy, please don't. I have an important meeting I have to attend once we return. I can't go in sopping wet," Edmund pleaded, panicking as he was drawn closer to the lake.

_"My Just brother, you knew that we all must attend a meeting upon returning, yet you saw fit to push me in. Now here is your justice," said the youngest queen. Of course what she had not planned on was that Edmund would seize her wrists as she pushed, tumbling her once more into the water along with him. "Edmun...," she yelled in frustration before water filled her mouth. _

"Come on Su, come and play," Peter exclaimed as he ran up to the eldest queen, who sat quietly beneath a tree reading her book.

"Do not even think about doing what is going on in that mischievous brain of yours brother, or I will show you how unlike my title I can be."

"We already knew that!" he chuckled, an impish grin on his face.

"Peter Pevensie!" she shrieked, standing up quickly and forgetting the danger she was in. For as soon as she stood, he grabbed her and slung her over his broad shoulder. "You put me down now."

"Alright, Su. Your decision."

Coughing and sputtering, she came to the surface, glaring daggers at the laughing young man. "Come on in with us, Peter," Edmund yelled as Lucy knocked her eldest brother's legs out from underneath him, toppling him into the cold water.

Astonishment and disbelief were written across his face as he rose, sputtering to the top, greeted by the laughter of his siblings. This ensued in a water fight of which none was the victor. Finally they climbed out and lay upon the grass and let the sun dry them. 

_Suddenly a flash of gold appeared, and a voice spoke, dissolving the dream and driving sleep from her,_ **_"Lucy, daughter of Eve, awake!"_**

With a start, Lucy jerked awake. A feeling of ill boding filled her as she looked around the room. Moonlight illuminated the mostly dark room, and with it, she could see the shapes of two people; a small thin figure and a tall man wearing a large voluminous cloak. They quietly struggled near her bed, the former preventing the latter from getting close to the Queen.

Grabbing her dagger from underneath her pillow, the Valiant shouted for her guards. Hearing the Queen's shout, the assassin leapt towards his feminine opponent, drawing a large dagger and meaning to finish her and the queen quickly.

Lucy gasped, frozen to the spot, as his knife, glinting in the moonlight, flew through the air toward her protector. A series of loud reverberations resounded through the hall and room as the guards attempted to batter the locked door down. The slim figure ducked and jammed her thin, dagger into the hooded man's shin as Lucy let her own fly.

In pain and agony, he wobbled, barely catching himself from falling. Viciously, he grabbed the queen's dagger from where it had struck him, and thrust it into the female opponent's side. Then he disappeared through the next room and was gone.

Quickly lighting a candle beside her bed and grabbing her cordial, Lucy hurried over to the small, thin girl. As the candlelight splashed across the figure's anguished face, the youngest queen gasped. It was faithful Dalia, who lay collapsed in a pool of her own blood

"Oh Dalia," the Valiant sighed sadly, removing the dagger and anxiously surveying the ugly wound.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I tried," Dalia whispered, frightened tears pouring out of her eyes. Suddenly a clamor was heard as the door fell and guards burst in.

"You did fine, Dalia. Don't worry; you'll be right in no time," Lucy comforted, pouring a drop of the cordial into the maid's mouth.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" a dwarf guard asked, rushing to the youngest queen's side.

"I myself am fine, Bramblefist. The blood on my nightgown is my faithful maid's. She saved my life. Fidelia, alert Marius and the Night Watch, we were attacked by a large man in a dark cloak. He'll have a wound on his shin and a dagger may still be imbedded. And hurry! Margreet, send for the maids and have them prepare a bed near my own and tend to my ward. And see if they can't find someone to fix this door. The rest of you, stand guard outside, no one else is to be let in or out."


	11. Grave News for the Queen

I don't own them just like a said in the previous chapter.

Lucy sat at her desk, writing to her brothers about the attempt on her life. She was too frightened and shaken to sleep anytime soon, so she listened to the tap-tap of the castle carpenters repairing her door and the sound of patrolling guards and tried without success to describe the assault. She had never suffered insomnia nearly as bad as Peter, only occasionally would things bother her to the extent that she would stay awake all hours of the night, waiting for sleep. She had used to crawl into her sibling's beds, but being a young lady, she was too old for such things.

Sighing, she stood and stretched her cramped fingers and sore back. She had about made up her mind to go down the kitchens and fetch herself another cup of tea, when a shrill voice pierced the air.

"Queen Lucy! Queen Lucy!" squeaked a young, overexcited rabbit; darting between feet and running towards the youngest queen. "You presence is urgently requested the counsel chambers."

"Who sent you, Phineas?" the queen asked as she scooped up the quivering animal. He had clearly spent all of his energy in trying to get there.

"Marius, Your majesty. He requests your presence most speedily on matters of . . . uh. . . Oh yes, matters of great importance he said."

"Adelweiss," Lucy softly called. A beautiful dove flew into the room landing on the desk beside the queen.

"Yes, Queen Lucy?"

"Tell Captain Marius I shall meet with him shortly."

"Yes, Your Majesty," cooed the dove. She nodded her head briefly in respect then flew of to deliver the message.

Lucy quietly checked on the sleeping maid, Dalia. After seeing all was well, she quickly dressed in a deep purple winter dress that her ladies-in-waiting had set out for her, taking care to bring a guard with her lest anymore assassins be lurking in the dark hallways.

Reaching the counsel chamber, she pushed briskly open the heavy oaken doors that were carved with scenes of Narnia's birth and into the room beyond. Only an eagle, who was the courier, and Marius stood waiting for her in the torch-lit room. The night was clear and the moonlight bright enough to cast shadows in the room.

"My queen," the centaur started, his face stony yet his eye showing sorrow and worry. "This just arrived from your brother the High King. Swift reports that King Edmund…has been injured," the captain stated gravely, handing her a small roll of parchment hastily tied with a piece cloth.

She swiftly ripped off the cloth and hurriedly read the contents, her face becoming more and more solemn. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes but she brushed them away. Raising her eyes once more, she called for a hawk courier, the fastest of his people. "Tell my brother the High King, we leave now and I shall be there soon. Give him my love and tell him give my love to King Edmund as well." With a bow of his head, the courier sped off into the dark, cold, winter's night. 

"Captain, my brother the Just is gravely injured. He lingers at the point of death. Rouse the troops, we ride now!"


	12. Peace

The High King sat beside his ashen, sickly brother. The younger man's pale hand rested on brokenly his chest, contrasting vividly against the dark coverlet. He had watched similar scenarios before, as his men and even some of his faithful commanders that had been close to him, had died. The fortunate ones went quickly. The others…they would hang on, their bodies weakening until the strain overwhelmed them and they would be released from their pain

Or at least he had always thought the ones that went quickly were the most fortunate, now he wished that his brother not be in the first category. He knew it was selfish, with all the pain his brother was enduring, but it had never really been this close to home before.

He never thought he would again be facing this with Edmund. A few tears escaped down his cheeks and he tried to stop them, but to no avail. His only brother, his best friend and co-ruler of Narnia might soon be gone. He knew if Edmund died he would never get over it and it would probably tear their family apart.

"Oh Ed," he whispered silently, stroking his brother's hand. His heart felt as if it would break from the agony of losing his brother. The only response was a breath that barely seemed to make it past the younger king's lips.

Quietly the tent flap was opened and a breath of cold air entered. Used to healers occasionally coming in to check on his brother, he did not look up. Ignoring the intruder's presence, he returned to wandering in his thoughts. Two soft, slender hands on his shoulders startled from his thoughts. He knew those hands. Lucy!

Wearied yet hopeful, he looked up to see his youngest sister. Her dress was wrinkled and smudged from travel and cook fire smoke and her hair windblown. A fear lingered at the back of her eyes, but from what he could not tell. She would tell him when she was ready.

With a look of relief on his face, he stood and gathered her into his embrace. Sensing his need for release, she whispered, "Cry brother. It will do no good to keep it in, only harm." And so he did as he held his sister tightly. They were not great blubbering sobs, but only small, quiet tears as a king does when he is deeply grieved more than words could tell. When he was finished, he noticed that the one shoulder of his tunic was somewhat soggy.

"What happened?" she asked, as he seated himself again.

"He…the cliff crumbled underneath him…just before we had reached the camp. He nearly drowned. Rosalee….She said his injuries were too great. That he might get pneumonia... he never got any better, only worse. Lu, now he's dying, and it's all my fault."

"No it's not!" his younger sister said firmly. Her voice growing soft once more, she continued, "You know he's strong. He wouldn't leave us unless he couldn't help it. He loves us too much. He loves you too much. Besides you know if you hadn't let him come, he would have followed you, and perhaps have been the death of himself. We might not know and if we did, what chance would we have of finding him in the whole of Narnia or Ettinsmoor?"

"But what if he can't Lu, what if..."

"This is not the Peter I know talking. Where's your faith, brother? That rock solid faith that always encourages us, even when we doubt. You always force us to believe again. Where is it hiding? Aslan has not abandoned us. You know He never would. He loves you more than any of us ever humanly could."

"You're right, but…."

"Trust him, Peter. He knows what's best, even if it is to take Ed."

"Alright, Lu. Thanks."

--


	13. Hope

Disclaimer: You know the drill. No, I don't own them. There I've said it.

Edmund opened his eyes. The tent was dark, save for a few candles and braziers set around the room and the air was filled with the scent of dryad, dwarf and centaur medicines and herbs to help breathing. The heavy cloth flap lifted, and a slim, feminine figure slipped silently in inside, quietly tip-toeing over to his cot.

"Oh Edmund. Bless you, you're awake!" Lucy gasped with surprise and delight. "I'll go tell, Peter."

"Wait! When did you get here? I thought Peter forbade you to come," he asked, relishing the pleasure of once again having his sister's company.

"I arrived two days ago while you were quite delirious. I think the healers were afraid . . . afraid for you. Just wait, I'll bring Peter." And with that she left.

_"What else do you think I would be able to do_?" he thought, smirking to himself.

"Peter, if you don't take better care of yourself, you're going to end up like Ed," a voice outside the tent reprimanded, a few minutes later.

"Alright, I'll try. Yes Lu, I promise," the tired voice of the High King agreed, yawning.

Then there came another rustle of fabric and Peter entered, a tiny breeze accompanying him as he did so.

"You look horrible," Edmund joked, seeing the haggard appearance of his brother as Peter seated himself.

"Thank Aslan you've made it, Brother " exclaimed the elder king, looking as if he'd either burst or cry from happiness.

"What do you mean?" the dark-haired youth asked, confusion coloring his voice. His eyes finally rested on Peter's relieved face; the dark rings beneath his eyes, the unkempt stubble from days of neglect, and the thin, weary look about his brother that spoke volumes about the past days and weeks.

Peter managed a bit of a smile, trying to minimize the anxious days behind him as he said, "We almost lost you to the fever, Ed, let alone your injuries."

After a lengthy pause, he continued. "You've been so close, Ed. So close. I was afraid….the healers, they… Rosalee, she…. She said... you might not….might not…. make it. That you had too many injuries. I was afraid that…. that was the last time I would see you smile," the High King explained, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Peter, I'm still here and I will get better," the Just King wheezed. Then another fit of coughing racked his frail body and he was silent for a time. "What day is it? How long have I been out?"

"It's the eighteenth of Stormfall. You've been unconscious for days."

"Days?! Do you know how far we would have been by now?" Edmund rasped, trying to sound stern, but his demand only came out in an unimpressive wheeze.

"Ed . . ." the elder king warned, well aware of the direction his brother's thoughts would take. His face and tone then grew grave. "I honestly haven't thought about it, with you being so close to. . ."

"Nearly halfway across Ettinsmoor, that's where," the younger man muttered darkly, his brown eyes flashing with their customary fire as he shook his head at what he clearly considered to be his own stupidity.

"I was just thinking…"

"Well, that's good, Pete. Wouldn't want those old cogs to get any more rusty, now would we?"

With an amused roll of his eyes, the older king continued seriously. "Ed, all those strange symptoms you've had, the ones you and I couldn't figure out. Your headaches, the dizziness, maybe even your cough. They all started after you drank the potion. You don't think…. perhaps he's causing them, this wizard of the Dark Woods. To keep us from rescuing Susan…. And that they'll only get worse the closer we get?"

"That makes perfect sense, Peter, but it could also be a simple case of one becoming sick and clumsy."

Shaking his head furiously, the elder king exclaimed, "It all makes sense now. It wasn't you or the rain, Ed, it was him. The wizard we read about in the library, it must have been. Only he would be capable of such enchantments. He planted that copy of Dalia in the court to find out how we rule and act. He knew we would come after Susan, so he's trying to kill you!" Then collecting himself, he said, "Sorry, Ed. I should be letting you rest, not…" He stopped, trying to find the right word.

"Engaging in philosophical discussions?" the younger king offered jokingly, trying to mask a yawn. A look from his brother made him confess. "I'll admit, I'm a little bit tried," he said with a smile. "Falling off a cliff is not fun. Don't ever let me find you trying it or I will…"

"Will what?" his elder brother asked, amusement once again twinkling in his bright eyes.

"Knock some sense into that thick head of yours," Edmund grumbled as he drifted off to sleep.


	14. The Grace of The Lion

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.

I would like to thank my dear Friend and Sister in Christ for her help and combined effort. And all my other friends at TheLionsCall for their invaluable help,

Edmund blinked awake, he was uncertain of what had woken him. Then he heard the soft tread of feet outside the tent, and a familiar face nosed aside the heavy tent flap and steeped inside. "Aslan!" he croaked hoarsely. The Lion purred majestically, the light emanating from his fur lighting the tent up more brilliant than the brightest day.

Padding over softly, the Lion leaned down so that he was eye to eye with the boy, and breathed on him. The mane covered him and the sweet smell was all round him. He breathed it in; it filled him and comforted him. It flowed through his body easing every sickness-based ache, soothing away his fever and calming his tempestuous stomach.

"Be healed, my son." Aslan commanded; his voice full of strength. Yet it overflowed with something more, another power, the warmth and tenderness of a great, fatherly love. And suddenly, Edmund was. The tightness in his chest vanished, fleeing away with his fevered aches Reaching his arms up, he wrapped them around the Lion's neck. "Thank you, Aslan." He whispered, burying his face in the soft mane. "Thank you."

For the longest moment the Just King just sat there, his arms around Aslan's neck, breathing in the Lion's warmth and comfort. "My Son," Aslan said softly causing Edmund to lean back, the Lion's long mane brushing past his face. "You must rest now."

As the Lion spoke, Edmund suddenly became very tired. Falling back onto the pillow behind him, he let Aslan send a breath of air over him."Thank you....Aslan" he whispered his eyes closing before he could say more. The Great Lion stood there a moment longer, smiling down at King Edmund in that way that only Aslan could. "Sleep well, My Son." Then without a sound He padded out of the tent and was gone.


	15. Awakening

**Note: A huge Thank-You goes to my beta reader Elecktrum, my sister in Christ, and my dear friends at for their help.**

With a start, the High King jerked upright. Panting heavily and terribly disoriented, his heart pounded painfully against in his chest. Despite his warm night clothes, he shivered, drenched from head to toe in sweat. Looking around, he attempted to blink the heavy sleep from his bleary eyes. The dream had been horribly vivid, fraught with images of his nightmare.

He remembered the healers trying vainly to revive his brother, that bright winter day. Edmund had been dressed in his finest, and the sight of his peaceful face turned a knife in Peter's gut. Worst had been the haunting question in his subjects' eyes...Lucy's anguished voice rising above the other's, accusation in every word.

The dazed king shook himself, trying to dismiss the dream from his mind as he anxiously scanned the tent for his brother. The cot beside his own was empty. Perhaps the dream hadn't just been a dream? Terror energized Peter as he tumbled out of bed, kicking the tangled blanket off him. Struggling into his jerkin, the panic-stricken king willed his shaking fingers to move faster.

Shoving his icy feet into his boots, the frantic youth raced outside, eyes desperately scanning the camp. There, sitting between several dwarves, was Edmund. Peter let out a relieved sigh, just standing there a moment to slow his racing heart.

Edmund turned at the sound of the High King's approach. Frowning with concern as he noticed his older brother's worried expression, the dark haired youth spoke quickly," Peter? What's wrong?"

"Ed, you're up! How? I thought-" Peter stammered hoarsely, his mind struggling to comprehend the picture of his perfectly healthy brother sitting there.

The Just King's frown deepened. Slowly he rose from his place, and catching his brother by the shoulders, ushered him away from the circle of dwarves by the campfire. "Peter. Slow down...I'm alright."

Confusedly, Peter ran a hand through his uncombed hair. "But...But... yesterday... your cough....you were so tired and weak.....How?" he repeated.

Comprehension dawned on Edmund as he studied his brother's worried face in the early morning light.

Reaching up, he patted the top of Peter's tousled hair. "Just making sure the bats didn't make a nest up there during the night," Edmund explained with lighthearted smile. Growing serious, the healed king locked gazes with his elder brother as he spoke. "It was Aslan, Peter. He healed me. The wizard cannot touch me anymore. It's all gone. Everything." Earnestly, Edmund searched the elder king's eyes, trying to reassure him with the truth of these words.

The answer Edmund received, was not perhaps the one that had been expected, for Peter had taken him and hugged him tight. Tears flowed from the overwhelmed young man's eyes as he breathed in the perfume of the Lion's mane that still clung to his younger brother. And he sobbed for release. For all that had been, for all that might have been, and for all that still could be. And because of the great love of the Lion. Not only had He not forsaken them as Peter had feared; but Aslan had himself come to heal Edmund.

The Just King held his brother tightly as Peter released weeks of pent-up emotions. When he had cried himself out, Edmund led the elder king to a spot by the fire and settled down cross legged beside him. With deliberate movements the dark-haired king set a bowl into his brother's hands and dished up some steaming oatmeal from the pot hanging over the flames. "Eat," he ordered simply.

The dwarves and other soldiers gathered around the campfire sensed the kings need to speak alone. Bowing respectfully, they dispersed to begin packing up the camp.

Peter sighed. "No, Ed, I'm not hungry. Really. I'll get something before we break camp."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "And who, my dear brother, has been staying up nights watching over me? Not taking time to eat or sleep? Start eating, Pete, before I shove it down your throat." The younger king's tone was firm, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

_Pete_. The nickname cheered him a bit. It was not a title the High King would tolerate from anyone besides Edmund, but coming from his little brother, the term was endearing. Staring at the wisps of steam coming up from the bowl of cereal in his hands, Peter replied morosely, "I doubted Him."

Edmund gazed steadfastly at his older brother. "He forgives. Both you and me. We all stumble and fall..."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and turned away quickly, trying banish the memories of watching his brother fall; memories of his scream; finding him hours later, in the reeds, battered and almost lifeless.

The younger king took Peter's chin in his hands and turned the elder's face back towards his own. "But He picks us up again...makes us whole....that's what's important, Peter," Edmund finished, stressing the word _whole_. "Look at me."

Slowly, Peter opened his eyes, lifting his gaze to meet Edmund's. To his astonishment and utter disbelief, he saw the younger king had a radiant smile spreading across his face. A faint glow of the Lion's own light shown in Edmund's eyes. For the first time, as Peter really looked, he saw that his beloved brother was indeed whole. Gone was the feverish pallor, the dark circles under his eyes, the labored breathing. Edmund, the Just, wise King of Narnia, mischievous brother, the one always there for him, was back, restored to complete health.

A voice from behind them, made both kings jump. An older centauress was standing there patiently, holding another wooden bowl in her hands. "King Edmund, if I may?" she gestured to the boiling pot of oatmeal.

Dropping his hand down to Peter's shoulder, Edmund gave it a reassuring, brotherly squeeze before he turned to take the proffered bowl from Fidelia's hands. "Please pardon us, my good Lady. For your patience and kindness, you have our thanks."

The centauress smiled, her long dark locks falling about her shoulders as she bent to place the bowl in the younger king's outstretched hand.

"It was my pleasure, King Edmund. We are all glad to see you hale again. King Peter, no less than any of us."

Blushing lightly at her happy smile, the Just King thanked Fidelia as she ladled out a portion of steaming oatmeal into his bowl. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, Peter's head was bent staring at his oatmeal. Giving a slight bow to her kings, the centauress left them to finish their brotherly discussion.

Sighing softly, Edmund set down his oatmeal bowl and put a spoon in his brother's hand. "C'mon Peter. Eat. You need to keep up your strength."

Yet the spoon still sat limply in the High King's hand. Trying for a smirk, the younger Pevensie reached forward to take his brother's hand in his. "Now, must I spoon feed you, O Brother Mine?"

Peter's mouth quirked in what might have been a smile and he took a bite.

Breakfast was eaten quickly as both kings knew they could delay moving out no longer. Laying aside their bowls and spoons, they set off about duties of their own. Everywhere, soldiers were putting out breakfast fires, taking down and rolling the tents, stowing supplies in the saddlebags, and buckling on their weapons. The healers, _thankfully_, Edmund thought, were packing up their supplies as well. He noticed Lucy in their midst, cheerfully helping out where needed. In about an hour, the whole party was ready to set out again

It was quiet as the company rode along, excepting the steady beat of the horses' hooves.

"I saw you and Peter talking this morning over breakfast," Lucy said softly as her mare came up beside Edmund's. Her countenance looked almost as perplexed as Peter's had earlier when he had first seen Edmund by the fire.

"Aslan," the raven-haired youth said simply watching a light of understanding flood into his younger sister's eyes.

"Oh Ed!" she breathed, a smile wreathing her face. For a long moment the two rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

It was then the company started past the place where Edmund had fallen. This time however, a peaceful silence reigned over the Narnians as they marched by, their mood lifted now that the Just King was back on his feet again. The Great Lion had not abandoned them after all. They were not alone.

The High King trotted his mount out of the lead and over to the broken outcropping. He sat there motionless, hands gripping the reins tightly as his mind endlessly replayed Edmund's horrifying plunge into the rushing waters below. Another horse reined in beside him and a hand was placed on the elder King's shoulder. He knew it was Edmund even without turning to look.

"Maybe it was a test," Peter spoke, his voice flat, empty almost. "To see if....if I would trust Him no matter what. Put my faith in Him alone. And to think I almost lost you because of my own-" he broke off turning away.

"As you do for me, so shall I." It was spoken softly, earnestly, by the dark-haired king, the words hanging in the clear morning air. A reminder of the oath Edmund had sworn to Peter. Something that went beyond mere ceremony and duty; it came from his very soul.

Startled, Peter whipped around, tears shining in his eyes. Clasping his younger brother's shoulder, the High King held Edmund's gaze a long moment.

A smile to match his brother's touched the High King's lips momentarily. And Edmund knew the first step of healing Peter's heart had been accomplished. Together, the brother's nudged their steeds to a trot and joined Lucy once again at the front of the column.

As the company moved on higher and higher up the mountain, someone's voice sang out the first line to a rousing marching song. Soon other voices joined them, even Edmund, his strong, clear voice blending in.

Lucy shot him a sly grin and reaching into her pouch pulled out her pipes. Mr. Tumnus had been teaching her how to play and had made a present of this set the night she had ridden out so urgently from the Cair. "May it bring you sweet thoughts of home, My Queen," he had said as she thanked him and packed it quickly and carefully into her saddlebag for the long ride.

Edmund returned his younger sisters grin adding a cheery, "Well played, Lu!" as the song came to a stirring end. Reaching over, he punched his elder brother lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon Pete, lighten up. Or else your face will get stuck like that!"

The High King chuckled slightly. But before he could reply the younger king was off like a bolt of lightening, calling over his shoulder, "Race, you!"

"Edmund! Ed!" The wheaten-haired king called, but was obliged to follow if he wanted to keep an eye on his brother. So spurring his horse into a gallop, he too was away, leaving the army behind.

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elecktrum .net/u/450594/ is a very awesome and excellent writer, I would like to cite her as once of my creative influences, especially for this chapter. Her stories are awesome.


	16. Revival

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or anything like that.  
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**A HUGE "Thank You!" all my friends who helped me with this piece and to those who encouraged me. An especially big thanks to my Sister  
**

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"Hey! No fair! Wait for me!" The young queen called, quickly stuffing her pipes into a saddle bag and charging after them.

On and on the three monarchs galloped across the plain, hair blowing in the wind, laughing as they went. Zigzagging and swerving and circling back and tagging one another and speeding off again. It seemed like the first glad day they had had, since Susan had left their midst.

Panting they stopped to catch their breath, and look around them. Before them, spread as far as the eye could see heather and wild flowers surrounded them. "Oh look," cried Lucy leaping from her horse and dashing over to the small patch of brilliant color. Kneeling down, she began to pick a few of the pink, white or violet-blue flowers.

"Oh Peter, Edmund, look! Harebells! Susan always loved picking these back. . . back in that other place."

Both boys whirled to face their sister, gazes dropping to the flowers she held clasped in her hands. Sobering, the three shared a look. The wound caused by Susan's absence ached inside them each, terribly and as often as one of Edmund's headaches had. She was gone from their midst and with her a part of their hearts.

Lucy gripped the harebells tightly in her hand, as she wondered if Susan had picked any during her last walk with Peter. The one they'd had just before the week before her birthday celebrations. She hadn't paid any attention then, daring Edmund to a race and charging ahead, knowing these walks were time for her eldest siblings to talk alone. Walking back solemnly back to her horse, she wondered if Susan had any flowers where she was. The youngest queen knew flowers always cheered her elder sister. **  
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As he watched Lucy return to her horse, Edmund pondered many things. _Bother the blasted potion and that wretched wizard,_ he thought. Susan's gentle touch always soothed them all and kept them working smoothly together without _too_ many disagreements. If only she were here…she would make him feel better, turn his moodiness into laughter, and Peter wouldn't worry over him so much.

While not as wise as he in the ways of laws and treaties, Susan's gentle wisdom had benefited them on some many occasions. He knew many times Peter would seek out their gentle sister's council on especially difficult cases.

Seeing the grief on his siblings' faces, Peter turned his face away. If felt as if a knife had been most cruelly thrust through his heart**.** Not only was Susan gone but he felt at a lost how to comfort Edmund and Lucy. _How could he be strong for them and struggle with the doubts that threatened to tear him apart from the inside?_

Then the moment passed and Peter motioned them back to the army and their near frenzied attendants. Riding up beside his sister, Edmund plucked a harebell from Lucy's saddlebag and set it behind her ear. Lucy smiled and Edmund felt an answering smile creep across his own face upon seeing his younger sisters delight at his simple gesture.


	17. Faith Renewed

**Author Note: **Sorry for the long wait, Everyone.

As the whole company crested the top of the snow covered mountain, the view spread out before them, from the steep, cruel mountainside down to the white-blanketed, sloping moor.

There was little more then sharp precipices, rocky crags and tall, bushy cedars and certainly no obvious way down. "Looks like it will be steep going," mused the Peter.

"Look!" Lucy cried suddenly, startling them all. "A secret stair!" Just out of their path, a little to the right was the top of a stair, the first step partially obscured by drifted snow and the giant roots of a cedar.

"Lion's Mane, Peter! She's right!" exclaimed Edmund, coming up beside his sister.

Peter dismounted carefully, for the winds were especially strong at the very top of the mountain, and edged his way over to the rough-hewn stone. Bending down, he carefully studied it. "Looks like Giant's work. Cracked and worn too. I don't know, Lu."

Turning to her eldest brother, Lucy spoke quietly. "There isn't any other path, Peter. We must take this one and trust Aslan for safe passage."

Without a word, the elder king turned and looked out across the still, lonely moor. All was quiet and barely a thing moved on the nearly flat surface. Finally, after what must have seemed to the rest of the party forever, he turned back to them. He was the High King again and everyone could see it in his eyes.

"Captain Marius, we will take the path our royal sister has found. I will go first with the scouts. King Edmund, will bring the first company behind me. Captain, you and Queen Lucy follow directly after. Fuloi," he said turning to the faun lieutenant nearby, "Bring up the rear guard."And with that the High King started down the stairs, his winged scouts ahead, a few guards accompanying him to ensure his safety.

The going was slow for the stairs were steep and drifting snow added to the danger. In the shadows of the stones concealed ice patches awaited the unwary. As they descended, stone walls rose up higher and higher on either side.

It was bitterly cold, for the wind which had been brutal before, was now down right vicious. In its fury it would whip down over the walls, or up the mountain stair to sting at the exposed skin of the travelers as they attempted to make their way down. Lucy slipped once, but the strong arms of the centaur captain at her side caught her and lead her around the treacherous black ice

When the last shivering Narnian had picked their way down the mountain stair, it was decided to camp there for the night. Soldiers scurried to set up camp holding their cloaks close. Pegs were pounded in, tents hastily erected, and rapidly the camp began to take shape. Soon the three monarchs were warm, snuggled into blankets in their royal accomodations. The soldiers, too, kept warm in their own tents- less ornate but no less sheltering.

"Peter?" queried the young queen, a mug of warm cider in her hands. The three monarchs were settled around a small table having a late supper, seated on the thick rugs and furs covering the ground in an attempt to keep the cold out.

"Yes, Lu?" Peter replied, turning to his sister.

Lucy's forehead was wrinkled as if in some great struggle between faith and fear as she replied, "Do think we'll actually be able to get to there?" To the dark woods and the wizard's fortress?"

"Of course Lu," Edmund replied, shoving half of a scone into his mouth.

Peter was quiet only a moment and when he looked back at her, he was smiling. "Lu, with Aslan's help, we can do anything." And standing near by, though no one could see him, was The Great Lion Aslan, a terrible wonderful smile on his countenance as he watched over those he loved.


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